


The Uncomfortable Adventure of the Black Box

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Peak in Darien</p><p>With Naboo away on a shaman drinking night, Vince and Howard are left to their own devices. It's all fine until Naboo's magical black box is opened, giving them an uncomfortable surprise. Slash, set around series 3 but with no major spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Uncomfortable Adventure of the Black Box

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Carmilla

 

 

 

 

"Now, you remember everything?" asked Naboo.

Vince looked up at the ceiling as he struggled to remember. "Check on the cauldron every three hours, put out the rubbish, keep the potion cabinet locked, and..."

Naboo tilted his head expectantly.

"Er," said Vince.

"Don't touch the Black Box! Come on, Vince. It's the most important magical object in this house. I don't want to get home to find you've poured a pot noodle on it.

"So I just leave it there?" Vince turned his eyes to the shelf where a small, square, black box sat. It seemed perfectly innocent.

"Yeah, you leave it there. It has to be left to air on the shelf without any damage."

"Gotcha," said Vince, winking.

"And don't forget to - "

"Tell Howard when he gets back. I know, I know." Vince grinned.

It was hard to resist a Vince grin. Naboo grinned back. "All right? Have a good night, then. We'll be back early tomorrow."

"Early tomorrow?" Vince laughed. "No way. You're going to Tony Harrison's birthday bash. You'll be wasted."

Naboo frowned. "It's a very serious gathering, actually, in South London. Shamans go South."

"More like Shamans get shitfaced."

"What'd you say, Vince?"

"Oh... nothing."

Vince waved Naboo and Bollo off and watched their carpet zoom away. When it had disappeared completely he laughed to himself, rubbed his hands together, and headed back into the Nabootique. He had three copies of NME to get through.

He was sure Naboo had said something about a cauldron, a cabinet, and a box, but he couldn't quite remember what.

*

It was three in the afternoon when the door tinkled. Vince looked up.

"All right, Howard? How was the jazz?"

"Not bad. Not bad at all, sir." Howard closed the door behind him. "For a while, it was easy going. Then things started to get wild. The trumpeter changed a whole bar of the chorus. Oh yes, it was pretty fresh. The singer was out of control, he was scatting all over the place. He was - "

Howard suddenly noticed that Vince was reading an article called _Pete Neon's Favourite Pants._

"Are you even listening to me, Vince?"

"What?" Vince looked up. "Oh, yeah. By the way, Naboo's gone. He left us some instructions."

"Did he?" Howard was standing beside Stationery Village. He needed to be close in moments of stress.

"Yeah," said Vince. "Something about... a rubbish cabinet?"

"Take the rubbish out, keep the cabinet locked. Howard Moon is up to the task." Howard stroked his moustache with one finger. "Anything else?"

"Check on the cauldron!" said Vince, pleased to have remembered something. "And there was the Black Box."

Howard looked over at the box on the shelf. He didn't like the way it sat there, so square, so black, so... boxlike. "What did Naboo want us to do with the box?" he asked.

"Er..."

Vince tried to think, but thinking was hard. Naboo had said something about the box, hadn't he? He tried to recall. Naboo's skin was so pasty these days. Not as cool as Pete Neon's. Pete Neon could change his skin colour to hot pink or gold. Genius.

"Vince," said Howard, slowly, "what did Naboo want us to do with the box?"

"Open it!"

"He wanted us to open it?"

"Yeah!" said Vince.

Howard marched over to the shelf. He was a man of action; he was the one to actually get things done. Naboo would hear about it.

He picked up the box. It was warm in his hands. Without further ado, he pulled off the lid.

*

"Come on, you ballbag! Surfing time!"

"Harrison, you fool, I'm not in the mood."

"Lighten up, Saboo, you git! You haven't had enough to drink."

"And _you've_ had too much."

"I'm nowhere near legless!"

"You're always legless. You're a bladder without legs," said Saboo.

Beside him, Naboo winced. Those fourteen pints of magic mead were beginning to make themselves felt in his head.

"I hope tomorrow's nice and easy," he said.

"Easy?" scoffed Saboo. "I thought you left Howard and Vince in charge of your shop."

"Yeah..."

"Just tell me you didn't leave anything valuable there."

"Well, I did leave the Black Box..."

Saboo laughed. "Good luck."

*

A howling noise erupted from the box. Howard felt himself being whirled around, faster and faster, still clutching the box. The howling built and built, and then nothing. And then a shudder.

Something crashed into his side. Howard screamed.

"Ease off," said a familiar voice.

"Vince?"

"Yeah."

"Get off me, Vince."

"I sort of... can't."

Oddly enough, he was right. No matter how hard Vince wriggled, his right shoulder remained stuck to Howard's left. An unseen force had turned them into siamese twins.

The box had disappeared.

"Fantastic," said Howard.

Vince shuffled sideways, dragging Howard with him. "I'm going to call Naboo," he said.

*

"Hello?"

"Naboo, you've got to listen - "

"Yeah, we're having another round, keep it quick."

"The Black Box!" shouted Vince into the phone. "What does it do when you open it?"

"Sticks you to the nearest person for an indeterminate period of time, of course." Naboo frowned. "Weird question. Anyway, later."

"Naboo, no - "

Vince heard a click, and the dial tone. He turned to Howard.

"We're stuck."

And they were. The best attempts at pulling in opposite directions, and even whacking the join of their shoulders with a hammer, could produce no results.

Howard was not pleased. He needed a quiet hour to re-order Stationery Village, which was impossible when Vince kept talking on his phone and doing his hair. And then there was the awful music, pop or dance or nu-rave or anything but jazz. Sometimes, the entire 'Hits of the 80s' cd.

"This is exceptional!" shouted Vince, over the third Gary Numan song in a row.

"More like excrement," muttered Howard.

"Come on Howard, get into it!" Vince yelled.

Howard's mood grew from a general gloom into a full stormcloud. Vince seemed to have accepted the fact that they were joined at the shoulder, and dragged his hapless friend back and forward, left and right, quite literally all over the shop. When Vince dragged them to the bathroom, Howard took it upon himself to cry out,

"Enough!"

"What?" said Vince. "I've gotta have a shower to stay fresh."

"We can't shower together."

"Why not?" Vince grinned. "You got something to hide?"

"No... I just..."

"Feeling a bit inadequate, know what I mean?"

"Shut up, Vince."

They showered. Howard averted his eyes wherever he could, staring at the glass of the shower door. He felt strangely uncomfortable about being this close to a wet, naked Vince, especially as Vince seemed perfectly comfortable singing and whistling away.

Yet still more awkward was the issue of bed. There was no way they could fit in fit in a single bed: it was blankets and the floor. When he closed his eyes, Howard couldn't quite block out the thoughts of Vince - of the warm line of Vince's body beside his. He could hear the sound of Vince's breathing: in, out, in, out, regular and beautiful.

Howard propped himself up awkwardly on his side, so that the join of their shoulders would not strain. He stared at Vince for a second, muttering to himself. How was this fair? Vince had annoyed him all day - Vince was shallow, and popular, and whistled in the shower. But here he was, so exquisite in sleep.

Howard leant down, hesitated, then pressed his lips to Vince's brow.

Vince's eyes flicked open and he looked up wildly. "What're you doing?" he asked.

Howard did not answer. He just leant in again and captured Vince's mouth, pulling him into a quick, breathless kiss.

With his shoulder stuck to Vince's, he could only use one arm freely - and he put it to good use, roaming over Vince's slender frame. Vince moaned and protested weakly. He looked so ravished, thought Howard, so ruffled with his hair splayed across his forehead.

The kisses were getting hotter now, and Howard reached for Vince's pants. It was quick and easy - his hand sliding in, Vince writhing beneath him, making the most delicious shocked sounds. Howard came in time with Vince and gasped against Vince's lips, kissing him one last time before he rolled over, silent, breathing hard. His only remaining contact was the join of their shoulders.

*

The morning was uncomfortably slow.

Howard lay there for a few minutes, agonizing, ignoring the filtered sunlight from the window. He knew Vince was awake beside him by the stillness of his friend's arms. He could have lain there for an hour, too scared to speak, but it was now or never.

"Vince," he said.

"Mmm?"

"Do you want to talk - "

"No."

"Oh," said Howard, fighting to keep his voice light. "Okay."

"I don't wanna talk," said Vince, "cause talking's boring, you old jazz be-bopper." And he flipped onto his side, grabbed Howard by the neck, and kissed him hard.

"You mean... this going to be real, Vince?"

"It will," said Vince, "if you hurry up and get out of those pyjamas.

*

Naboo dragged himself up the stairs, a grumbling Bollo trailing behind him.

"Hi guys," he said croakily, wincing in the direction of Howard and Vince on the couch.

"Hey Naboo! How'd the drinking go?" said Vince.

"Terrible. Tony Harrison vomited all over my turban. Saboo tried to play cricket with him and he got all airsick. Bollo tried to - wait. Why are the two of you sitting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're joined at the shoulder." Naboo frowned There's only two solutions - you've started having lots of violent, passionate sex, or you've ruined my Black Box."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, sir," muttered Howard under his breath.

"Now, don't get mad, Naboo," said Vince.

"Mad? Why would I be mad when you've just destroyed one of my most valuable magical objects?"

"Yeah, but, the side-effects were pretty cool." Vince grinned.

Naboo sighed. "Right. I'll get the antidote."

After a green cream had been rubbed on their join, Vince and Howard slowly unstuck themselves. Vince winced. His arm felt like a lump of jelly attached to his shoulder.

"Got any plans for the day?" asked Naboo, smirking. "A little bit of quality time together, maybe?"

"I'm going out for lunch," Vince said loudly. "Being locked with Howard's turning me wrong. Besides," he added, when Naboo was out of earshot, "I've gotta keep tonight for you and me. Know what I'm saying?"

Howard didn't look up from his tidying of Stationery Village, but Vince saw him break into a smile.

 

 

 


End file.
